


touch ancient as the river

by bigelows



Category: Gentleman Jack (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Developing Relationship, F/F, Family Drama, POV Multiple, Secret Relationship, Sibling Rivalry, Trains, everyone knows but ann and anne are in denial, not a slow burn at all
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-02-07
Updated: 2020-03-21
Packaged: 2021-02-27 21:53:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 6,811
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22502821
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bigelows/pseuds/bigelows
Summary: Ann and Anne fall in love in public spaces, together and apart.
Relationships: Anne Lister (1791-1840)/Ann Walker (1803-1854)
Comments: 28
Kudos: 132





	1. happy hour

_I want a woman’s wit swift as a fox._

_She’s in her city, meeting_

_her deadline; I’m in my mill village out late_

_with the dog, listening to the pinging wind bells, thinking_

_of the twelve years of wanting, apart and together._

_We’ve kissed all weekend; we want_

_to drive the hundred miles and try it again._

_-Joan Larkin, “Want”_

\--

_They met at a happy hour._

It wasn’t Ann’s usual fare, that. Most nights after school finished she would pack her bag, mark her students’ papers and enjoy a quiet night watching _Grace and Frankie_ with a glass of wine or two. She’d feed her cat, scroll through her Instagram feed and head to bed early.

When Mrs. Priestley insisted she come to the fundraiser earlier that same day, she found herself saying “yes” as she meant to say no. And that settled it.

She did have a soft spot for white wine and bacon-wrapped hors d’oeuvres.

These fundraisers were always successful, raising money for the students that couldn’t afford tuition or uniforms. They rotated through the usual fine dining restaurants, the hotel bars, the fancy houses of their most prominent graduates. In Halifax, you could make a calendar to the cadence of New House’s happy hours.

Ann avoided them because she should be one of the immaculately dressed hosts, opening their grand homes to strangers in an effort to make the world a better place. She had the money, the grand house, the solid Yorkshire name, the graduation year on her nametag.

Yet another disappointment.

Elizabeth would love this. The mingling, the fancy wines, the small talk, all of it. But Ann shied away from these parties as a child, never trained in the ancient art of asking others for money.

The Rawsons hosted that evening’s event. Her cousins Catherine and Delia gliding through their living room, playing the hostesses Ann could never be.

She checked the clock and saw 25 minutes had passed since she arrived, she promised Mrs. Priestley she would stay for 60.

She had already finished a glass of wine.

10 minutes of listening to Mr. Rawson detail his latest mega-deal with his banking partners. A lot of golf games involved, apparently.

And then it happened.

When Anne Lister entered the room, Ann felt a new tension, the ripples of a flood, a river branching off, the air crisp.

She turned away from her, picked up another piece of cheese from the charcuterie table and ordered another glass of Sauvignon Blanc.

Catherine, finally through her initial rounds of socializing with the dozens of attendees, sidled up next to her to say hello.

Ann had never been so glad to see another person in her life.

“I bet you saw who just walked in based on the speed in which you just consumed that entire glass of wine,” nodding her head to Ann’s now empty glass. When had that happened?

“I have absolutely no idea what you’re talking about” Ann picked up a grape and plopped it on her tongue. This gave her at least another 5 seconds before having to acknowledge that Anne Lister, London Real Estate mogul and England’s most eligible lesbian had entered the room.

“She never shows up to these things, Ann! This could be your chance to shoot your shot” Catherine had gotten it into her head years ago (while quite drunk) that they were meant to be together due to their similar names. (Anne had been featured on a magazine that Ann happened to always have in her backpack. Catherine had found it while searching for a tampon. It was all a coincidence, really).

Ann blushes whenever this is brought up. Uni was a long time ago.

“There’s no shot to shoot, Catherine” Ann turned back towards the party. Anne was now speaking with Mrs. Priestley, who was playing the role of dutiful Headmistress with aplomb. Though when Mrs. Priestley then glanced towards Ann, Anne’s eyes followed.

Her smile swept across the room, Ann felt one growing on her face in response. Catherine nudged her on the arm until Ann forced her away.

This was the start.

\--

By the end of the evening, Mrs. Priestley had brought Anne over to Catherine’s side of the bar, had charmed all of the necessary donors and raised over £5000. That was one less uniform drive to worry about.

What a surprising one, Ann Walker. Her brightest English teacher, New House’s single largest donor whose donations essentially outweighed her annual salary, charming Anne Lister into a £1000 cheque on the spot.

There may be some hope for her on the fundraising committee yet.

“And they seemed to hit it off, the two of them” she told William later, as she waited for him to turn off the light that same evening in bed.

“Anne Lister does tend to hit it off with attractive young women, Eliza” he admonished from the bathroom.

Mrs. Priestley scoffed at the thought. Ann definitely was not like that. Anne definitely was, but the rumors of her exploits while a student at New House and then at Cambridge and now all over London (and parts of continental Europe) were exaggerations without a doubt.

She thought Anne Lister was many things but a womanizer not!

“I think it could be good for her – Ann – to have someone like Anne Lister around. She’s such a bright girl, she just needs a bit more confidence in herself” William had now turned out the light and was getting into bed beside her.

“Oh, I’m sure they’d love to hear that, Eliza” he kissed her on the cheek and dreamt of flying sheep.

\--

Marian had been incredibly surprised when Anne agreed to attend the New House happy hour.

She had also been incredibly surprised that Anne was in Halifax at all.

She had a tendency to do things like this, Anne. One day she’d text that she was off with her latest girlfriend to Hastings for a weekend and 24 hours later she shows up on the doorstep, keys to a rental car in hand and no luggage.

This has happened before.

Aunt Anne had been so pleased to see her, their father as well. Marian wanted to know if they would be as pleased to see her if she went away for months at a time. Or maybe she doesn’t want to know.

The drive to the happy hour was silent, Anne usually mocked Marian’s investment in the New House social scene. She must really be upset about Vere.

She couldn’t wait to tell her friends about this new bust up of Anne’s.

The valet took the keys to Anne’s rental, didn’t need a name.

Marian steeled herself as the door to the Rawson’s mansion opened.

Anne’s arrival at the event caused its usual buzz throughout the room.

Marian snuck in behind her, made a beeline for her New House friends, holding a spot with a clear vantage point for the evening’s drama. She checked her phone, hoping James Abbott would text her back.

It wasn’t easy being Anne Lister’s sister, obviously. Everyone knew her name – she was on the news constantly as a “Real Estate Expert”; she’d inherited Shibden Properties from their Uncle James at just 29 and became England’s first female CEO managing a portfolio over £10 billion by the time she was 35. Marian was a nurse.

She was attractive, wealthy, charming and a complete pain in Marian’s arse.

She’d been told this was a normal older/younger sister dynamic, but no one else had Anne Lister as an older sister.

Not anymore, at least.

Ann Walker was also at the event, a first that Marian could remember. Like Anne, she was an extremely attentive New House donor who never came to events. Though Ann did live in Halifax, and taught at the school, and seemed to be friendly with the majority of the people here.

A strange one, Ann Walker.

When Mrs. Priestley co-opted Anne for the evening, Marian and her school friends settled in.

“I bet you she’ll mention the new theatre building at least twice” Sarah, her former Uni roommate and New House comrade, had invented the “Priestley Bingo” game several years previously.

“I bet you she’s going to introduce Anne to Ann Walker” Marian suggested, taking another sip of her wine.

It seemed an inevitability, the moment before you see a tsunami’s wave.

When they did meet, Marian could tell by Anne’s stance, the way she adjusted her jacket, untucking her hair from behind her ears, that she was interested in Miss Walker.

What a shock, a gorgeous blonde from an established family, independent wealth. Definitely not Anne’s type at all!

Marian laughed quietly to herself, she might have had too much wine.

For the rest of the evening, she only had to look for Ann Walker to find Anne nearby.

Marian doesn’t recall much of the party’s end, just that she somehow ended up back at her house and woke up the next morning with a horrific headache.

She wasn’t necessarily surprised to see Anne walk in, shirt untucked and shoes in hand as she sipped her coffee that morning.

She was surprised to see the sheepish smile, for Anne to take her coffee cup and take a big sip, for her to smile at her sister before walking towards the stairs.

“I won’t be down for lunch” Anne called down once she’d reached the top, something she had literally never alerted Marian to ever in her life.

Marian glanced at her father and Aunt Anne, obliviously arguing about Brexit yet again, and turned towards the stairs.

She took another sip of her coffee, Abbott had not texted her back.

_\--_

Upstairs, Anne started the shower. Stripped off her clothes and stepped into the warmth.

A text to Eugenie, asking her to schedule another trip to Halifax next weekend, open on her phone in the bedroom.

She put her head under the spray, closed her eyes.

As she dressed, she checked the itinerary Eugenie emailed over. She always managed to book the worst routings and timings. It must be on purpose.

A text from an unknown number popped up at the top of her screen, Maybe: Ann Walker.

She glanced up, the light shifted.

A storm gathering outside her window, she wants to feel the rain.

\----


	2. pub

_Anger looked like fireworks. Love was an indistinct blur._

- _Jenny Offill,_ Dept. of Speculation

_\--_

_They met at a pub._

(Not on purpose, very much an accident, a momentous occasion with no fanfare).

The sky grew dark quite early that Friday, it was raining.

Anne Lister couldn’t remember the last time she traveled this much for a girl.

(That’s a lie – Tib Norcliffe, back and forth between York and Cambridge every weekend while Tib finished her graduate degree and Anne started her first job. Endless hours on buses, train connections, bad coffee. The sex was worth it.)

After Eugenie’s latest disastrous itinerary to Halifax (really, going up to Edinburgh to get to Birmingham?), Anne had to cancel her trip at the last minute.

She pretended not to be upset, not to be angry. After all, this wasn’t something serious. Not one of her great passions. Ann was still in her iMessages as Maybe: Ann Walker.

She had only made the trek north once or twice a week to see her family. Her Aunt Anne looked well for her age, but that couldn’t last forever. Her father’s hearing seemed to be getting worse by the day. Marian took up extra shifts at the hospital, despite Anne’s protestations, and seemed to be getting a life.

They needed Anne to stop by more often.

Plus, work couldn’t be better. She had closed on an acquisition of a rival firm just 6 months ago, her investors never happier. The BBC called once a month, at least.

She had worked so hard to have something like this – time to spend with her family, influential friends, recognition in the face of strangers, freshly starched shirts, the new car smell whenever she’d like.

Someone like Ann Walker by her side.

She had met the sisters Walker about a decade ago. Their parents had just died, 2 months after each other, the three children orphaned and extremely wealthy. It had been a year after her Uncle James handed the company over, two years before his death, and Anne was in Halifax for a family visit.

(Mariana had just called off their never-ending engagement, she was not running away from London.)

At her Aunt’s insistence, she spent a dreary afternoon visiting the Walker family home, making dull small talk and admiring the quite daring wallpaper they’d added in the powder room.

She hadn’t thought much of Ann Walker then, hadn’t thought anything at all of her until that New House fundraiser.

Now she very rarely thought of anything else.

On a conscious level, Anne knew there was no reason for this sneaking around and theatre. Anne’s family wouldn’t care, Ann’s might about the gay thing, but they’d always been friendly with the Listers.

She was happier than she could ever remember.

She was waiting for the air to clear, the shoe to drop, the inevitable end to arrive with decaying flowers and a deflated balloon.

At the pub next to her office that evening, two whiskey sours in (never a good sign), she realized that, were Eugenie at all a competent employee, she should be seeing Ann right about now.

She signaled to the bartender for another drink and pulled out her phone. She might as well pile it on and check Twitter for whatever else blew up in the world today.

On her home screen, she instead saw “Maybe: Ann Walker (12)”.

That was odd, she and Ann very rarely exchanged more than one text at a time. Barring a few good night texts that went on for too long.

As she opened her phone to read them, she felt a tap on her shoulder and turned around.

\--

“Eliza, that was Ann. She said she’s sorry for the late notice but she won’t be able to join us for brunch tomorrow. She realized she forgot she’d agreed to have some of her uni friends over this weekend,” William informed Eliza as he sat back down on the sofa.

Usually they didn’t answer calls this late.

“Oh, well good for her. She seems so much happier recently, don’t you think, William? I mean uni friends! I didn’t even know she still had uni friends!” Eliza had set down her book, animated at the thought of her husband’s cousin turning a corner.

“Yes, I agree, she seems to really be coming into her own. Out of the closet, if you will!”  
William had seen Ann with Anne Lister last weekend holding hands at the local theatre. They looked in love.

He’d hid inside of a shop as they passed to not ruin their moment. They’d kissed on the street corner as Anne opened an umbrella; he’s certain they’ll marry.

He would never tell Eliza about that, of course.

“Yes, that’s exactly it. Coming out of that closet she’s hid herself in, finally into the light! It’s remarkable. I think even the students have noticed” Eliza Priestley, ever the headmistress.

William found something incredibly interesting about his chair.

“William, do you think we should invite Anne Lister for dinner the next time she’s in town?” William choked, covering it with a cough. “She and Ann got on so well at the Rawsons’ fundraiser, and with your cousin turning such a corner, I think it could be good to get them together again.”

She looked extremely pleased with herself.

William nodded his head, opened a book at random and let her have this moment.

\--

“I’m sorry Aunt, Anne texted last night she wasn’t going to make it… Yes, ye – I know I’m sorry I forgot to leave a note before I left for work this morning. I’m sorry Aunt, I’ve got to go – there’s. Okay, I love you Aunt Anne.” Marian hung up the phone at the nurse’s station, her colleague dragged her away from a patient due to a “family emergency”.

“I bet if I didn’t come home no one would freak out… and Anne doesn’t even live here!” Marian muttered to herself as she picked up a patient’s chart.

She groaned to herself in anger, only Anne could ruin her day from hundreds of miles away.

Thomas Sowden, 19, works on his family farm and afraid he has caught an infection from working with his pigs.

She sighed, walked into the room. Another day at Calderdale A&E.

\--

Ann hadn’t fully realized what she was doing until the conductor checked her ticket after she switched trains in Leeds.

The thought of spending another week before seeing Anne again had activated some part of her brain normally reserved for remembering to go to the grocery store or to set her alarm each night.

A natural instinct.

She’d gone home, made sure her cat’s automatic feeder was filled for the weekend, and threw her toothbrush and some underwear into a bag. The papers she’d meant to grade on the ride to London forgotten on the kitchen table.

After the conductor verified her ticket and moved onto the next passenger, Ann’s nerves kicked in.

She pulled out her phone, opened it to Anne’s series of apologetic texts about the impossibility of making it to Halifax this weekend.

(Ann had sent a series of emojis in response).

Steeling herself for outright rejection, she sent Anne seven texts in five minutes explaining her impromptu ticket purchase. That should do it.

She promised herself she would not look at her phone again until they pulled into London.

She took a deep breath and looked around at her fellow passengers in the train car.

She hoped they were all also moving towards someone they love.

They hadn’t used the “l” word yet, Ann and Anne.

Ann knew she loved her, though. Whenever together, she felt electric and calm and on a raft at sea, the shore in sight and the sun beating down.

She knew that Anne loved her.

She knew it from the way she reminded waiters of Ann’s shellfish allergy when they went to new restaurants, the way she kissed her during sex, her habit of visiting Halifax every weekend and spending every night with her, sneaking out early each morning just in case any of Ann’s many cousins happened to stop by for breakfast. (A regular occurrence).

She knew but she wasn’t sure how Anne would react to this spontaneous trip. Or to Ann’s minimally stocked overnight bag.

When she arrived at Anne’s flat, she wasn’t necessarily surprised to not find her there. Anne had not responded to any of her texts. Mrs. Cordingley directed her to Shibden’s office, a 15-minute walk away.

It was raining but Ann needed to feel cool.

Anne took the surprise much better than she thought.

Back at Anne’s, after eating shepherd’s pie and holding hands on the walk home, Anne touched her on the sofa.

They’d locked the door behind them.

She was wet and hungry and could feel her hair dripping on Anne’s collarbone.

She came hard around Anne’s fingers, sat up from her lap and settled on the floor. Anne helped her with the belt, Ann dragged her pants down her thighs.

When she pressed her tongue to Anne’s clit, hearing her moan in appreciation, she knew she could never go another week without this again.

Anne came; the rain continued to tap against the window, the city aglow.

\----


	3. hotel

_That’s what love is, this matter of hopeful travel against the usual deeply troubling odds._

\- _Ali Smith,_ Spring

_\--_

_They met at a hotel._

It seemed easier, in a way, to prepare before their dinner with the Priestleys.

Anne had booked a room for them at the nicest hotel in Yorkshire, just down the road from the nicest restaurant Ann could find on such short notice.

A reservation for 6, booked four hours in advance, was honestly a miracle to find for a Friday.

When Mrs. Priestley had stopped by Ann’s classroom on Wednesday, asking if she’d like to join them for dinner, she’d thought nothing of it. She’d agreed, noted down the time in her diary.

Anne called her on Thursday morning as she was dressing for work.

(Ann’s students were going on a field trip to a local farm that day; she was excited to have an excuse to wear overalls.)

Before hanging up, before both said “I love you” (!), Anne asked her opinion on what she should wear to dinner with Eliza and William that Friday.

Ann had almost missed the bus to the farm, the untangling of Mrs. Priestley’s plan taking much longer than she’d allotted for getting ready that morning.

It was Anne’s idea to invite Marian and Catherine, two others to distract from the obvious.

Ann knew there was no way Eliza would be happy about this. Anne’s surname could make up for many sins, homosexuality not among them.

It had taken Ann quite a long time to come to terms with her attraction to other women.

She’d kept to herself for the most part while a student at New House. Her sister Elizabeth was Head Girl, President of several clubs, aced her A-Levels.

Ann also aced her A-Levels but spent her afternoons drawing birds and flowers and reading her parents’ mystery novels.

She’d stayed nearby for University, skipped a gap year, and fell in love with her flatmate shortly after turning 19.

Jane had a pixie cut, chapped lips, hiking boots by the backdoor.

They’d kissed a few times while drunk, had sex for the first time during a weekend trip to Manchester.

She woke up the next morning feeling alive and windswept; a voicemail on her phone told her that her father had a heart attack the previous evening and passed early that morning.

Their relationship continued until her mother’s car accident two months later.

Years of therapy followed, she no longer blamed her happiness for so much destruction.

No one knew it ever happened, least of all Eliza Priestley who still routinely sent the LinkedIn profiles of England’s most eligible bachelors to Ann to peruse.

So, Ann asked for another glass of wine, sat on the white bedspread with Anne at her side.

“I don’t know if I’ll be able to do this, Anne” her fingers brushed against Anne’s knuckles as she handed back the now-full glass.

“I promise you, everything will be fine” Anne settled next to Ann on the bed, their sides flush together.

Ann rested her head on Anne’s shoulder. She took a sip.

She wanted to stand in the shower all evening.

She wanted a cool bath, a hot tub with jets, the smell of spring air.

Ann’s voice lowered to a whisper, “she’s going to hate me now, she’s my boss and my cousin and she’s going to hate me”.

Ann thought she’d cry, but she didn’t.

She turned further into Anne’s neck, kissed it.

It was time for them to go.

\--

Marian really, truly did not know why she accepted Anne’s invitation to attend dinner with the Priestleys, Ann Walker and Catherine Rawson this evening.

Well, she did.

She wanted to see the surprise on Eliza Priestley’s face firsthand when Ann and Anne inevitably revealed their serious coupledom. They would not be able to restrain their heart eyes for an entire evening, Marian knew that.

She’d cooked dinner for Aunt Anne and her father, made sure they were happily watching some program about World War II, re-applied her lipstick and headed off to dinner.

On some level, Marian was genuinely happy for her sister.

Marian had always adored Ann Walker, but she was a bit shocked that Anne felt the same way.

Anne has never liked a single man that Marian has dated.

Marian carried that fact in the back of her brain as she exited the taxi, paid the driver and made her way inside.

She would not be happy this evening.

At the hostess’ stand, she spotted Ann and Anne already seated at their table.

They were holding their menus opposite each other (subtle), their feet barely touching beneath (not-so-subtle).

Catherine arrived a minute later, looking more put together than anyone had any right to this evening.

This was not going to be fun.

Marian ordered a cocktail as soon as she got to the table.

It was tense, to say the least. She needed to take the edge off.

Ann was very quiet. Anne, her usual gregarious self.

Once the Priestleys arrived, Anne turned up the charm even more. Eliza bought into all of it. She laughed at every joke, wanted Anne’s opinion on every topic.

Whenever Marian glanced at William, he looked ill. She knew the feeling.

They ordered bottles of wine, piles of pâté, loaves of bread, a few fish.

Eliza noticed when Anne told the waiter about Ann’s allergies.

Marian and Catherine held their breath.

Then the explosion.

As they all left, Eliza in a huff and Ann on the verge of tears, Catherine and Anne comforting her as they walked towards Anne’s hotel, Marian stopped William.

“Why didn’t you tell her before tonight? You obviously knew” Marian resolute, tall as a mountain, this man nothing to stand in her way.

“You knew that Eliza would be upset, you knew that would upset Ann. Why didn’t you just tell her before tonight?”

He looked at her, maintained his silence and walked towards his now-arriving car.

If Marian were in a better mood, she would have offered to call him a cab.

Instead, Marian watched as he drove away, finally feeling the chill in the air without her jacket, abandoned at the coat check.

She returned to the bar, ordered a cider.

Aunt Anne and her father were fast asleep by the time she got home.

\--

Ensconced in their brand-new Range Rover, the Priestleys sat in tense silence as they made their way through the countryside.

The evening had started so well.

Its end could not have been worse.

Fifteen minutes from home, William realized he had left his card when he’d hastily signed the check. A price to pay for this dreadful evening, he supposed.

The wind was picking up outside the window, he hoped the rain would hold off until they arrived home.

“I truly can’t believe this” Eliza muttered to herself, she had been so still and silent that William figured she had fallen asleep.

“They seem genuinely happy, Eliza. This is good for Ann! You’ve notice how much more involved she’s been.”

William had been hoping to delay this conversation for at least 24 hours. Or until death. Whichever came sooner.

“That Anne Lister, I have defended her whenever she has received any criticism. I’d have staked my life on her not being what everyone says she is. Someone who takes a liking to a girl, tosses her aside. It’s despicable. And I never believed a word of it” her ire grew with each word. “But to target Ann, our Ann Walker? That’s taking it a step too –“

“Have you thought that maybe, just maybe, Ann – our Ann, my cousin, Ann – wants this, too?” William had noticed the look in Ann’s eyes when Anne recounted her research into the brain, how she’s used it to negotiate better deals with emotional landowners.

“Nonsense, Ann Walker wouldn’t want anything like this.”

They were pulling into their driveway now, William not ready for them to go their separate ways, to wake up the next morning as though this had never happened.

He stopped the car, put it into park.

“Eliza, when we get into the house, I am going to call Ann and we are going to apologize for making such a mess of the evening”. He had no idea that was his plan until it came out of his mouth.

“WE made a mess of the evening? I would say she—“

“No, Eliza. We did. And we are going to be adults about this. We are going to call Ann, we will say we’re sorry, we will ask both of them, Ann and Anne, to come to lunch. It will be civil and you will not call either of them a hell-bound dyke. Do you understand me?”

He had never talked to Eliza this way.

She ruefully smiled at him.

He felt his face grow pale.

“William, you and I both know that is not going to happen”.

She opened her passenger door and walked the rest of the way home.

\--

Anne had not planned on sleeping alone that night.

Once Catherine left the hotel room, Ann with her forehead to her knees, breathing deeply to counts of five, Anne assumed they would shower and rest.

Instead, Ann lifted her head, turned to Anne and the look on her face ended it all.

Apparently, she couldn’t do this. She couldn’t handle the stares from strangers, her family’s derision, gasping for breath when she doesn’t have any air.

Anne had pleaded with her in a way she’d never dared before.

Not even when Mariana had taken the ring off her finger, replaced it with Charles’. Not even when Tib called her, saying she’d met a fellow graduate student who made her happy, never returned the books Anne left at her flat. Definitely not when Vere Hobart, while on a vacation that Anne paid for, announced that she’d had so much fun but _really_ , she needed to get home to Donald and _really_ start her life.

Each time she let her guard down, each time she thought “well, this is quite nice”, she wasn’t enough.

Mariana still prefers not to be seen with Anne in public, too eccentric and visible. How dare she never wear a skirt and keep her hair short?!

Vere adored her because she’s an oddity, no one could _really_ be an actual lesbian, could they? How could that work?

(Anne had tried to show her, many times; the demonstrations had no lasting effect).

It seemed that Ann didn’t care about any of these things, that she loved her genuinely and completely.

Seemed.

Anne knew this was coming. She should have been better prepared.

She had hoped this time it would be different.

She was wrong.

After Ann left, she’d called room service, ordered 3 pints of Haagen Dazs. Ate one of them quickly and chugged the mini bottles of scotch from the mini fridge.

When they ran out, she moved onto gin.

She called Ann two times, refused to leave a voicemail. (She wanted no evidence that this wasn’t a dream.)

She hoped to wake up tomorrow morning, no headache, Ann beside her. Blonde hair on the pillow, the morning sun warming her skin.

She wanted to eat French toast, go for a swim in a creek still cool from the morning, grip a cup of coffee. She wanted to see dew on the grass.

She drank another tiny bottle of gin, chased it with a scoop of vanilla. (Why did she order three pints?)

Definitely: Ann Walker had texted her.

She opened her phone, read it four times.

Her coat was hanging in the closet, boots by the bed.

(She remained seated on the couch, unable to move, afraid she’d break a spell.)

The chocolate ice cream melted in its container.

When she heard the key card in the door, she knew there was no way she could ever dream something like this.

Ann was in her pajamas, wellies, a knit hat.

“I got home, got in bed and realized that I want to do this. I don’t know if I can but I want to. I want to do this with you.”

Anne put the ice cream down, they both got into the bed.

They took off their clothes in silence, Anne thanking her with every kiss.

\----


	4. train station

_We have to hope… that the people who love us and who know us a little bit will in the end have seen us truly. In the end, not much else matters._

_\- Ali Smith,_ Autumn

\--

_They met at the train station._

Anne had proposed the trip to Scarborough this weekend in a post-sex glow, weeks prior.

(It just happened to work out that they’d meet in York for the final train ride ahead. Total coincidence that did not involve Anne taking a half day and booking her own travel.)

She’d pretended after the suggestion to forget it had ever happened. Scarborough ruined.

She did not want to revisit the memories of her last visit. She did not want to taint her relationship with Ann with those feelings of humiliation and self-hatred.

But Ann, being Ann who she loved so much, had booked a hotel for them almost immediately after they’d parted that next morning. She hadn’t mentioned that she had done so until they left their blank hotel room for the Georgian walks of Bath for trains home alone.

These last few weekends in various places around England, a way to distance themselves from the nightmare they’d had in Halifax, had gone remarkably well.

Anne had tried the tour-de-Great Britain with Mariana once upon a time. They had just celebrated their engagement, Anne’s heart still skipped a beat each time she caught sight of the ring on Mariana’s left hand.

The fact that Mariana wanted to spend so much time in Cheshire had meant nothing at the time. Merely a convenience for both of them, Lawton Hall not figuring into Anne’s romantic visions of their weekend getaways.

Mariana had always liked time alone.

Scarborough had been their last and most dramatic stop. Mariana had grown distant in their intervening weeks, blamed it on her busy job in Bristol, blamed it on Anne living between Yorkshire and London.

Anne had cut her hair for the occasion, they’d been due to marry in two months.

Mariana refused to speak with her in public, ate dinner alone, asked her why she would ever think to do such a thing and be taken seriously in polite society.

Two weeks later, it was all off. Mariana became the mistress of Lawton Hall; Anne flew to Australia, she couldn’t think of a place further away. (If she could have, she would have flown there instead.)

For years, the sound of waves crashing on the shore, humid air, seagulls squawking nearby brought a deep-pitted dread. She avoided all coastal holidays, hated sound machines, favored mountains and skiing.

It had seemed fitting at the time for her last night with Mariana, walking along the beach, to be calm and clear. A chance to walk in peace in the dark.

(There’s nothing to say about what happened in Hastings).

And there she stood at York Station, outside the platform for her and Ann’s train to the coast.

Anne’s face brightened when she saw the forecast included storms and high winds and flash flood warnings.

This weekend would be different.

She looked up from her phone, out into the crowd, spotted blonde hair and a too-large backpack making their way towards her.

She checked her bag for all of the weekend’s necessary items one last time.

Ann arrived, kissed her on the cheek, complimented her new haircut.

They held hands as they walked to their train.

Anne let her board first, gripped her bag until her knuckles turned white.

Then, they sped towards the future.

\--

When Ann Walker had requested to leave early that particular Friday afternoon (no remaining Parent conferences, how convenient?), Eliza had wanted to deny her request immediately.

Unfortunately, Ann made the request after Eliza had just let another teacher leave for the exact same reason.

There were multiple witnesses on each occasion.

Eliza had granted Ann’s few hours of freedom, couldn’t look her in the eye as she did so. (She pretended to look for a pen in her desk for the entirety of the conversation).

She ignored Ann as she made her way out of the school, a very large bag on her back.

Lesbians and their hiking, she thought to herself.

She had not spoken to Ann since that dinner. Which was incredibly difficult, seeing as they worked together; Eliza’s job was to help Ann with hers’. They also spent many hours after school at family parties, fundraisers, school plays, football matches.

In short, she was determined to make her point.

She had also not spoken more than 3 words at a time to her husband since she’d left him in the Range Rover. It had taken her 10 minutes to navigate the muddy puddles in the drive, an extra five to find an unlocked door to let herself in.

She refused to apologize.

No one dared question her about any of it. They assumed there had been some sort of mentoring program Eliza’d worked with that had ended.

Ann, being the premier donor for all of New House’s annual fundraising campaigns, could have written a large check. She no longer required Eliza’s professional or personal interest.

In all her years of teaching, she had never been so disappointed.

Ann Walker really could have been something.

\--

When Marian realized the purpose of Anne’s trip to Scarborough this weekend, she’d quite literally laughed out loud.

So loud, in fact, that her deaf father asked her what was so funny, if it was something on “that Youtube” again.

It had taken a few weeks, but she’d pieced together these weekend trips away, Anne’s questions to Aunt Anne about the possibility of her moving back to Halifax permanently, the Cartier catalogue she’d seen in the background while they’d FaceTimed.

Marian - a regular Sherlock Holmes, no doubt.

Anne was going to propose.

She and Anne had a mildly adversarial relationship on the best of days. When Anne had proposed to Mariana a million years before, she had asked Marian if she was making a mistake one night, three bourbons deep.

Marian told her to trust her instincts; Mariana was nice, she liked her.

The engagement lasted six months, Mariana became Mrs. Lawton instead of Mrs. Lister and Anne permanently absconded to London.

(The ring had been huge, the proposal involved violins and a lot of champagne).

She hadn’t told anyone that she’s figured out Anne’s plan, obviously. Who knew when it would happen or if Ann would say yes. Though Marian knew she would.

After last time, she wanted to spare her any possible embarrassment.

But she did like the idea of Ann Walker as a sister-in-law. She’d have even more gossip fodder at New House events.

And if Anne did move back to Halifax, she would have someone to help her more often with their father and Aunt Anne; she could go on more dates, even.

Overall, very agreeable for all involved.

She sent Anne a text wishing them a great weekend away, just in case.

\--

When Ann woke up that last morning in Scarborough, she lost track of where she was.

The room seemed to rock around her, salty air on her tongue.

They had left the door open the night before, it had been raining and their room faced the sea. Ann liked to hear the rain hit the water, liked to feel the breeze through the curtains and imagine they were on a ship far from shore.

She voiced this to Anne who laughed and asked if she’d ever seen _Titanic_. (It was secretly Ann’s favorite movie).

Ten hours later, incredibly tired and sore, she opened her eyes to see the curtains close to the ceiling. The doors to the balcony were blowing open, she could feel droplets of rain on her face.

Anne was still fast asleep beside her; the heaviest sleeper Ann had ever met.

She grabbed the duvet, caught the first glimpse of her ring in daylight and got up to close the doors.

The carpet was a bit damp, the room uncomfortably chilled.

It was the coziest she’d ever felt.

When she made it back to Anne, now blinking her eyes open, the rain hit the door harder than ever.

The sky blackened and the sea crazed beneath their window.

Ann got under the covers, turned to face the person to whom she said yes.

“Sounds like quite the storm, doesn’t it?” Anne yawned, stretched her arms above her head.

Ann could only nod her head, eyes following the movements of Anne’s arms, her hands, her fingertips as they made their way under the covers.

Anne entered her gently.

As they kissed, as they moved against each other, Ann thought again and again that she would renounce her family members, live in a car, never watch _Titanic_ , become a Vegan, if it meant Anne was by her side.

She came in waves, pulled by a current that didn’t seem to end.

The storm settles over them, the sea continues its assault on the shore. Anne kisses her neck.

\----

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay! Self-isolation gave me some time to write this chapter. Only one more to go.


End file.
